


Ghosts and Ripples of Time

by jusrecht



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-09
Updated: 2009-03-09
Packaged: 2018-02-11 15:23:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2073246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jusrecht/pseuds/jusrecht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dino comes to terms with Hibari's presence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghosts and Ripples of Time

It doesn’t seem an appropriate time to boast any knowledge he knows about his sometimes lover, but Dino surrenders to temptation.

The decision is a child of a spur of the moment. Hours wear down, night closes in, and the cold lump in his stomach finally thaws out into sharp nudges of hunger. He looks at Hibari, ten years younger and rougher, covered in bruises and red angry slashes that rip through his clothes, and curbs the sudden swell of frustration in his chest. And then, he offers to buy him dinner.

There is no telling whether the restaurant still exists or not. His last visit was more than a year ago, twenty-four hours narrowed into meetings and Millefiore’s reaching arms and Tsuna’s strained smiles and Kyouya’s body pressed against him for thirty scant minutes. Too many things have changed since then, but he waits as Kusakabe fusses over his boss’s wounds and brings him a change of clothes.

Romario remembers his way around, years of tracing Dino’s steps engraved on the pages of his mind. They are welcomed by white lanterns illuminating black, bold letters and waitresses dressed in green kimono. Their socked feet make no sound as they lead the guests to their designated room, and Dino smiles to no one in particular when they announce it as the Kumo Room. Hibari may be scowling, but he sits down in front of Dino, legs folded neatly under his weight and looking every bit as at home as...

Dino breathes out and shrugs his jacket off, ignoring the way his fingers tremble slightly. The room feels smaller now, darker somehow, probably not worth the cost they will be charged with later. Strange how he never noticed before. Kyouya liked it here, from the dim light that cast a gold sheen on polished wood and white petals of a lone flower on the sideboard, to the quiet, solemn atmosphere that fit him like a second layer of skin.

Dino has wondered for a moment, worried even, about the possibility of discrepancy. Does this Hibari like the same type of food? Enjoy the same simple, elegant flavour which others often find tasteless? The Ten Year Bazooka is nothing but unstable, unpredictable.

When the first dish arrives, one look into the sharp, pensive expression on Hibari’s face is enough to chase his doubts away. There is, perhaps, just the tiniest hint of surprise on the tight curve of his lips – _one of his favourite dishes but Cavallone can’t possibly know that_ – but Hibari says nothing. His chopsticks bite into the pink flesh of the shrimp dumpling, carve a portion small enough to fit in the small gap, and lift it to his mouth. Dino ignores his own food in favour of watching, eyes following the movement of Hibari’s hand even as he struggles against the discomfort sweltering in the pit of his stomach.

“How do you like it?” he finally asks, voice tumbling into the low margin.

Hibari doesn’t reply. He chews slowly, the shift of muscles barely perceptible, and when he swallows Dino realises that he has been gripping his chopsticks a little too stiffly. He relaxes his fingers, but still waits for an answer.

“Not bad.” The reply is as smooth as everything about him right now, even with the cuts and one white plaster on his left cheek. Dino smiles, more than a little appeased – but the discomfort remains, a quiet snake still.

The second dish arrives, steamed salmon with sake. Hibari’s curiosity deepens but he staunchly refuses to give any voice to it. Dino watches him indulgently and resists the lure into another tangle of memories. The fish is smooth on his tongue, breaks softly under his teeth, and it is enough to keep his mind off it for a while.

When they move to the third one, Hibari is stealing glances at him. It is a rice dish in a pot, cooked on a slow-burning fire along with vegetables and thin slices of crab meat.

“Eat up,” Dino says, smiling but noncommittal. Frustration swells in grey eyes, but Hibari loathes asking. He silently bites into a piece of _oshinko_ and chews, almost furious with his desire to know. Dino breathes in deeply and walks that line again, between now and then, remembering what he remembers, seeing what he sees.

_So like him, and yet..._

Hibari is Hibari and yet he isn’t. It clogs his mind, this formula too arcane to decipher. He has almost forgotten what Kyouya was like, long time ago, wild and untamed by age. But time is supposed to do that, erode memories and smooth pain away. The bazooka, this whole time-travel business is a fucked-up thing, he thinks. They really shouldn’t exist.

“I used to come here.”

_I used to come here._

Dino swallows, bits of rice caught still in his throat, and then arranges his countenance to a disarming smile. “With your family?”

Hibari isn’t looking at him. His gaze rests on a faraway place not even he can follow. Dino remembers a funeral he attended four years back, two simple dark-wood coffins and Kyouya, looking stonier than ever, lonelier, but also prouder, in a way that made him clench his fists in an effort to hold back. Dino had tried to stay away. Kyouya’s grief was private and he wanted to respect that, but his mind has a way to rationalise everything, down to the most ridiculous and the most heinous. That was how he has survived so far, on the Cavallone’s throne.

Kyouya fought him like they had never fought before. No pity, only grief turned into snarls and red eyes and killing intent so great Dino had to tell Romario to leave. He didn’t hunger for a fight or thirst after blood, only wanting to maim, destroy, kill. Dino cracked his whip and his smile was grim.

Of course he had never thought it would be easy, loving the Cloud Guardian, but when Kyouya kissed him, wild like fire, more intense than the core of ice, Dino learnt to forget those things. Kyouya needed him, an escape or a distraction didn’t matter. He meant something, during these narrow slivers of moments. Dino smiled, laughed even, when one hand tangled in his hair and pulled with intent to destroy, or when teeth bit into his shoulder to muffle a scream he always imagined to be his name.

“You speak like you know me,” Hibari sounds annoyed, offended. Dino meets his accusing eyes with a wan smile.

“Maybe I do,” he says, quietly.

After the funeral, Kyouya didn’t allow him to call him ‘Kyouya’ for weeks.

Again, Dino had wanted to respect that. It was his fear that made him do otherwise – loneliness was a terrible, terrible thing, and he was afraid that Kyouya would forget. There was no one else but Dino who would call him ‘Kyouya’ now. So he persisted, bracing unanswered calls and the flat female voice telling him the number was unreachable, sending messages and waiting for replies that never came with an aching heart. No one said it would be easy.

Kyouya is selfish. He’ll do something like this, disappear without a word and let Dino deal with his loss alone. He likes doing things like this, and for once, Dino wants to convince himself that this is just that, a joke.

“You don’t,” Hibari’s voice is like ice. “Don’t think of yourself as my _anything_ , my teacher even less.”

Dino stares at him, caught in the old rebuttal, the old pain of an unrequited love. And then he has to laugh, because an unrequited love is nothing, nothing compared to the bizarre half-loss he feels right now, sitting in front of this boy who is and yet isn’t.

“Oh, Kyouya,” he sighs, torn between wanting to ruffle Hibari’s hair and wanting to destroy something. “I think of myself as much more than that.”

Hibari’s smirk is a beautiful but fearsome thing to behold. “Delusion doesn’t go with age, does it?”

“No,” he smiles, his fingers curling around an empty cup. “It becomes reality instead.”

He may have gone too far. Dino feigns obliviousness when Hibari narrows his eyes, and reaches for the teapot.

“More tea?” he offers, as if the moment doesn’t linger in the room, between them like the smell of a dead fish. Hibari’s eyes remain dark and heavy on him, and Dino wants to reach over and kiss him, finding out if he tastes the same.

He is still fighting the same urge when they leave the restaurant. If Hibari notices, he doesn’t let it show. He’s already what he will be ten years in the future – in _his_ future.

“There used to be a sweetshop over there.”

Dino follows Hibari’s gaze to the corner of the street where a small, boarded building is crouching in the darkness. Romario stands in waiting, holding the back door of the car open, his other hand casually resting on a holster.

“Owned by an old lady,” Hibari continues. His voice has the quality of novocaine, Dino notices, slightly dizzy. “She sold those little round candies that tasted like apples. Her husband died in the war.”

“Really?” he hums, unsure if he is pleased or just numb. “Interesting. He never told me that.”

Dino catches the pronoun, but only when it is too late. Hibari, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to notice. Maybe there is no reason for him to. It used to be a concept so alien, unthinkable that Hibari Kyouya takes anyone to his bed, but for the last few years, Dino has learnt to live on the periphery of miracles – Millefiore, close brushes with death, the sharp, fleeting flash of Kyouya’s smile as he stumbled into his room covered in blood that was half his.

This younger version of his lover however, he isn’t ready for it.

“Boss,” Romario sounds uneasy. They are left much too open, in a public place. Ceasefire or no, anything can happen with only eight more days left and Dino acknowledges this with a nod.

“We better go back now, Kyouya.”

Hibari is silent throughout the journey back to the hideout, his breathing soft. Dino watches lights chasing shadows outside his window, but he notices the faint tapping of Hibari’s finger on the leather seat. A habit he hasn’t grown out of even after ten years.

 _You’ll have to be stronger_ , he wants to say. _You’ll have to be stronger, Kyouya. You’ll have to win, and you’ll have to return him to me._

Dino isn’t used to doubting Hibari and he rips the foreign concept apart just as soon as it dares to show its face. “I’ll make you stronger,” he says, _vows_ , to himself and the rest of the world. They stand in silence, listening.

“I’ll become stronger,” Hibari snaps at him, but the words don’t cut the way the look in his eyes does. “We’ll see if you have anything to do with it.”

Dino smiles. “See that you do, Kyouya,” he says, clutching that little hope that melts between his fingers.

_**End** _


End file.
